While You Were Sleeping
by I'mtheAlphahearmeRoar
Summary: The one where Derek and Stiles are body swapped until Stiles can find a solution. There's face palm worthy Google searches and embarrassing YouTube videos. Also Stiles finds something very interesting in Derek's phone. And in his pants.


_**This idea was literally a 'killer' when I came up with it. My muse threatened disembowelment if I did not post it. *sigh.* Sometimes I think I may need to get a new muse. This is one is turning evil. *****sweat drop.*Anywho, so here it is. **_

* * *

"This is not cool, man. This is _not _cool."

"For the last time, Stiles, _shut up_."

Stiles looked up from where his hands were clenched together in fists on his lap, levelling eye contact with Derek—well, Derek's back. Derek was also exhibiting signs of anger, fingers smashing down on the laptop's keyboard as he typed in probably yet another question in the _Google _search bar (and with the amount of man pain Derek was expressing on the keys of the keyboard, it looked like the search wasn't getting them anywhere fast).

"Well, what am I _supposed _to do Derek? I am, literally, in a hairy situation here." He brought his hand up, fingers touching his face, pad of his thumb brushing over an annoying sideburn of black furry fuzz.

Derek turned around sharply in his chair, enough to have the lever of the computer chair force the seat down a couple inches. "Yeah Stiles, and you could maybe say I'm going through some _puberty issues_." His brown eyes were narrowed, eyebrows pinched in annoyance.

Stiles huffed. "Low blow, dude. I mean, you were a teenager once. I don't see how this is any different." Derek muttered something—probably an insult—before turning his computer chair back around and resuming to abuse the keyboard. "Hey, watch it. That thing cost me like a thousand bucks."

Derek made a noise in his throat, similar to a snort. "Unlikely."

"Oi, don't you dare make it out like you know anything about laptops. You're practically a caveman who lives under a rock and has no knowledge of technology outside the uses of a mobile phone," Stiles accused, lifting an eyebrow when Derek growled. "And right now, growling isn't really what I'd call a 'safe option.' If that noise so much as gets out to the pack, you're ego's a goner.

Derek's eyes darkened which—Wow. Did his eyes really do th-

Okay—_Stop_. He hasn't really explained much, has he? Okay, well… He and Derek switched bodies. Yep. They did. They totally did. Somehow. And it's too bad they have no freakin' clue how to change back, huh? Yeah. His life sucks. Really, _really _sucks.

"Dude, you gotta lay off the serial killer looks from now on. My body is not to be tainted by your grouchiness." He pretended he didn't see Derek's eyes glint dangerously, instead occupying himself with picking at a loose thread that was coming off the arm of the couch. "Anyway, keep on researching buddy. I am _not _staying in your overly morbid body forever."

"I'm not _morbid_." Stiles actually considered whether or not he should let Derek know that he had just _whined_. At that moment Derek cursed, slamming the laptop lid shut and crossing his arms over his chest. "This is useless. I can't find _anything_," he growled. Yeah. Stiles better not.

"Well, you're something," he said, getting up off the couch with a sigh and walking over to the werewolf in a teen's body. "Okay, get up. Let me see what I can find." Derek complied, if not morbidly—shut up, the dude is _so _morbid—and stood beside him as he opened the laptop, only to see Derek's latest entry into the _Google _search bar. OMG. "_Dude_. Seriously?"

**_How to get the fuck out of a teen's body when you don't even know how you got into it in the first place_**

Stiles tries to ignore how dirty that actually sounds when he reads it over again in his head—and _oh no _he is not popping a werewolf boner in front of a former werewolf dude that has taken residence in his body…

FUCK. That just made it worse. Dammit Stiles, you _idiot_.

Derek shrugged, completely unaware of Stiles' _new situation_. "It filtered me out."

"_Yeah_, of course it did, safe search blocks out any s—wait, _why _is this in safe search?" Stiles ignored Derek's eye roll—and his boner—and went to _Settings_, scrolling down to _Safe Search_ so he could turn it off. He tried and it didn't work. "What the fuck!" He tried it again only to see it do nothing. He turned around, giving Derek what he hoped was the guy's _Sour Wolf_ glare. "What did you do."

"What do you mean, what did _I _do? It's your bloody laptop," he scowled.

Stiles groaned, not going to bother arguing. Any argument with Derek was futile and anyone knew that. Well, maybe not Scott. "_Fine_, you're innocent." Derek scoffed and Stiles refrained himself from hitting him. "But, either way, this thing is in safe search and will not famboosh itself outta' it. So. We're gonna have to start searching _without _inappropriate language."

"Whatever, just do it," Derek growled, and Stiles watched him walk over to the couch and lay down, putting his legs up.

"Wow, didn't your mother teach you some _nice _manners," he muttered sarcastically, then mentally slapped himself about not being mean—saying things about a person's dead mother was probably the meanest you could get. Thank god Derek didn't have the super werewolf hearing to catch what he'd just said. He started typing in the _Google _search bar, pressing enter.

**_Werewolf/Human body swaps_**

_36 + pages of results _came up and Stiles slumped in his chair.

It was going to be a _long _day.

_Longer if this goddamn wolfy boner doesn't stop howlin' in my pants_, Stiles thought giddily, quickly palming himself a little—breathing out a small, soft sigh—before focusing his attention on the search results, moving the mouse cursor and clicking on the first website link.

* * *

Many hours later, 32 pages overlooked with no positive results, _and _a boner still being a demanding little wolfie—all of this left Stiles fidgeting in his computer chair, trying to focus on reading the website he was on instead of adjusting his jeans once again. Whenever Stiles thinks he's got the thing under control, it just proves him wrong every time by poking its head out from under the waistband of his boxer briefs. Fucking _werewolves_.

Derek is asleep—_asleep_—on the couch right now, lightly snoring away. Stiles hasn't actually seen the guy sleep before, so it's a new discovery. Stiles always thought Derek never slept, to be honest. But there it is. There. Right in front of him.

…in the shape and form of himself.

He's seen himself sleep before. There was this party a few months ago and he'd got wasted and passed out so Scott recorded him sleeping just for the heck of it and then uploaded it on _YouTube _for shits and giggles. He's been on it a couple times and it has like 3,000 views now or a little above that average. Apparently people like watching him sleep? Yeah, now _that's_ creepy as hell. All he can imagine is some fucked up paedophile on their laptop, jerking one off to the video of him sleeping. _God_, he wishes he knew Scott's _YouTube _account password so he can take the damn thing down.

But that video had been blurry—trust Scott to know how to take a video properly with an _iP__hone_—and the quality had been shit. God bless the _HD _on_YouTube _or some poor bastard who wants to get freaky while watching his sleeping self would be in for such a huge disappointment that is Scott le filming.

Stiles made a small noncommittal noise, stretching his legs out and turning away from the laptop—wasn't really helping him anyway. He looked at Derek, not quite believing that the guy could look so peaceful when he slept. With all the evil narrowed eyebrows and stone cold glares, Stiles imagined Derek to be a pretty aggressive sleeper. Well, the werewolf _was _in his body. He guessed that could mellow down anyone's gloomy attitude. His appearance—let alone his presence—wasn't that scary, and if someone asked him if he could stare an enemy down he'd laugh in their face and show them that no, it wouldn't work out.

Right now, the proof was all there. Derek's eyes were closed, face relaxed and serene as he slept. Stiles hated to admit it—he had his fair share of manly ego as well—but his sleeping face really did outline how many soft toned features he had. I mean, Derek's cheekbones were probably cut by people who made bloody _diamonds_ and his jawline—_Jesus_, the guy had such a nice jawline.

Him? His cheekbones weren't really that great, well defined enough but not that showy—and God help people who actually saw him while chewing a mouthful of curly fries, 'cause they would _not _be able to look at a chipmunk in the same way again. His jawline was eh, not too bad, but that's just because he won't let himself totally diss—himself.

Stiles jumped in his chair—aware that he'd been totally admiring his own features, which is _WHAT?_—when Derek snored loud enough to shock him out of it. Wait—he _snored_?

"Fuck my life," he bemoaned quietly under his breath, running a hand over his face—hey, sideburns were gone!—before leaning back in his chair. He closed his eyes, breathing slowly when—aw _man_.

He still had a boner.

"My life, I swear," he sighed. He stood up, stretching his back—because sitting in a chair for over 6 hours did gruel stuff to _anyone's _muscles, even if you were a werewolf—when something fell out of his jean's back pocket, making a _clack! _sound on the loft's wooden floor. Huh? What was that? He turned around, seeing a phone on the floor. Ah.

_Derek's _phone.

He bent down, picking it up and turning it over in his hands. A _Blackberry_. Nice one, sourwolf. _Smooth_. He pressed a button and the main menu screen came up. Seriously, why did it _not _surprise him that Derek didn't even put a lock on it? Ha. The guy was so predictable.

"Let's see here, what does Mr Grumpy have for pictures on this thing." He opened up the _Images _folder and— "Nothing. Honestly, no idea why that doesn't shock me." He exited out from the _Images _folder and opened _Music _instead. "Wow. We have _life_!" He browsed through quickly—there were only a couple songs—amazed when he found that Derek liked _Fall Out Boy_. "This is insane, you're a fall out boy fan for god sakes," he muttered. He had never imagined Derek to like any new age flashy rock bands and this—_this _was proof that maybe Derek wasn't such a caveman as Stiles suspected he was.

There was now only one more folder left that Stiles was interested at snooping in.

"Let's see what kinda porn you have, sourwolf," he mused, grinning as he opened the _Video _folder. There was only one there. Stiles found himself grinning even wider. "Ohmigod, you actually have _something _in here." He highlighted the video and selected _Play_, not believing that Derek actually had _porn on his phone _because this was so classic and he was going to rat this out to Derek when they were back to normal again when—

Stiles' grin dwindled, dropping completely.

The phone screen showed nothing but a dark night sky with stars twinkling, well that was before the cameraman must have moved the phone because next it showed grass, camera moving up as a white sneaker was on screen, then moving more up so there was a jean clad leg and—Oh you have got to be _kidding_.

Stiles knows this video. Oh god, does Stiles _ever_. This is bad. Oh so very bad. Aw fuckin' _hell_.

The picture is suddenly a blur of movement then—he's on the screen, laying on the ground passed out with his eyes closed and limbs all akimbo, hair mussed up from what _had _been "da besssssst night eveeerrrr Scotteh."

"So, uh, hey guys. Um. Yeah. So this is a video of my friend who's—well you can see for yourselves, can't you." Scott's voice is loud and clear, and it's very evident he's trying hard not to laugh. "He got _wasted_, guys. You really should've seen him. It was _hilarious_." And then Scott apparently doesn't care or can't help himself, because he snorts horribly before bursting into quiet chuckles. Right on cue, onscreen him slurs something in his sleep, nose twitching adorably—yes, Stiles can call it adorable 'cause it's _him _saying it, not Scott who's saying it right now as well as "bunny rabbit" and "wish I had a carrot for this."

Yeah. And _that _is why Stiles needs new friends.

Stiles snaps out of it and shakes his head, closing the video before he can hear himself slur "Deeerrrr" as Scott cackles evilly. He _knows _it happens 'cause he's seen this many times and—Oh _fuck_.

This is Derek's phone.

The video is on Derek's phone.

Derek _knows_.

Derek's probably _watched _this whole video and saw the rest while he—

"This isn't happening," he tells himself, going over to the table where the laptop is and placing the phone next to it. "This is _not _happening."

But it is. It oh so totally _is_. Because his werewolf boner is catching its head on the waistband of his boxer briefs again and his mind just _won't stop _wandering to deep dark places where Derek's lying in his bed with a hand around his cock, head thrown back and breathing heavily as he listens to Stiles' voice onscreen slurring very _vivid _images of what he wants to do to the werewolf—Scott's chuckling from before is gone at this point in the video and Stiles always snickers to himself when he thinks of what Scott's face looked like at that moment while he was filming all of his outspoken dirty fantasies.

"Oh fuck." He looks down and curses when he sees the bulge tenting up the front of his jeans—seriously, the thing looks like it's trying to _get out_. The image of Derek jerking off in bed to a video of him has his cock _howlin'_. "Oh god oh god oh god _oh god_."

Stiles can't help it, he really _really _can't.

The minute that follows finds Stiles laying back in the computer chair, legs spread and jeans tugged all the way down, cock pulled of his boxer briefs. He hasn't touched yet—_can't _touch it—because the thing hanging out right there in front of him is _big_. It's _Derek's_ big _uncut _dick and it's gorgeous. The base is about 8 inches, thick and with protruding veins that Stiles—if Derek was owning his body at this second—would just _love _to lick his tongue all over.

"_God_, what have you been _hiding _this whole time," he groaned, arousal spreading through him, enough of it to have his cock filling up with more blood, thick vein pulsing before his eyes. "Oh, sweet _lovin'_— He bites back another groan, not being able to hold back any longer.

He wraps his hand around the base, letting his fingers idly stroke up and down the smooth, hard skin. The touch of his hand sends tingles through his body but it's not enough, he needs _more_. He takes his other hand, gently peeling back the foreskin before rubbing the palm of his hand over the head and—

"_Ah_," he moans softly, closing his eyes and letting his lips part, tongue gliding over them to soothe the dry skin.

So, Stiles has _never _heard Derek moan. Of course he hasn't. Nobody looking like _him _gets a guy like _that _to moan, unless the world has morphed itself into a weird and wacky version of _The Twilight Zone_. But right now, he _is _hearing Derek moan—well, it's Derek's _voice _doing the moaning, at least—and it's so hot he _seriously _has no _idea _why the guy hasn't starred in any porno's yet.

He rubs the palm of his hand over the head again a couple times, a circular motion that has the tingles spreading through him faster and stronger, before he lets his thumb play at the slit. It's only a second later that he feels a warm gush of pre-come coat his fingers and—

"Oh my fuckin' god, how is this even _real_," he breathes, hand that's wrapped around the base tightening in hold. He lets his thumb play at the slit again, pre-come a steady stream now that he uses for lubrication, hand twisting over the head the way he likes it when he's jerking off and—_Oh_, it seems that Derek's body likes it too. Well, heh, technically it _is _still him in here anyway, so really it's no surprise.

Stiles finds that with each twist of his wrist over the head, more pre-come bubbles out of the slit—soon all of it is leaking off his fingers and coating his whole hand, every time he moves it the wet squelch of contact is loud and obscene, and he can't help but let himself pant, his breathing coming out heavier.

He continues on with that for a few minutes, breaths getting shakier. But for some reason, it still wasn't enough. He frowns, not understanding why this wasn't getting him off—usually when he did this, he'd come in a matter of minutes. He decides to try something different, moving the hand that's gripping the base, down to tug at his balls and—

"_Ngh_, oh fuuucck," he curses, 'cause apparently Derek's body responds just like how a freakin' dog responds when getting its balls licked. _Ha_. Totally awesome werewolf pun right there. The pun though isn't really helping him ignore the sensations running white hot through his veins, and when he curls his fingers up slightly, rubbing them against his perineum—everything just falls apart.

Now, Stiles has never experienced a wolfy orgasm before so he really has _no idea _what to expect. Claws popping out of his fingers, fangs elongating and vision bleeding red is the _last _thing he expected. His hands are digging into the chair arms and he hears the material rip through as he chokes out a gasp, hips jerking as come splatters up on his black Henley in white sticky ropes, growl rumbling in his chest as his orgasm rocks through him.

* * *

Derek wakes up an hour later, yawning loudly and scratching his stomach. In the amount of time between his amazing werewolf orgasm and Derek's naptime awakening, Stiles had exchanged his shirt for another one exactly like it from Derek's closet—the guy does _not _need to know what he'd done—and continued to search for solutions to fix their body swap, starting back from page 33 that he'd left un-searched.

"Find anything?" Derek asked. Stiles turned his chair around, facing Derek and instantly feeling awkward.

"Uh—no, no nothing yet. Still searching," he said, biting his lip when Derek raised an eyebrow. Oh god, looking at Derek right now was nearly impossible. He'd freakin' touched the guy's _dick _not only two hours ago.

"Alright. Let me know when you find something." Derek stands up and begins heading down the hall, probably to his bedroom.

His bedroom.

_Fuck_. His _bedroom_.

"Derek, wait!" He leaps off the chair, running down the hall. He gets to the bedroom door, hands grabbling at the door knob as he opens it. "Don't—"

But it's too late.

Derek turns to him, brown eyes narrowed as he holds up a spoiled black Henley. "_Stiles_, what is this."

Stiles literally loses all brain function. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it only to close it again. "Uhhhh…"

"Stiles. What. Is. This." Derek strides up to him, pushing the shirt right up to his face. "Because _this_," he points at the come that's dried up into the material, "looks like only one thing to me."

"Yeah. Um. One thing." Derek huffed an angry breath. "I'm sorry! I—I didn't mean to, I swear! It was an accident!"

"Explain to me how getting _come _on my shirt is a fucking _accident_, Stiles!" Derek yelled, and Stiles flinched. He'd never realized he could actually be _scary_ when he's angry.

"Um." He honestly has no idea what to say. The only way he can explain this to Derek is to tell him he'd found that video on his phone. "There was this thing, y'know, on your phone and stuff. I kinda, uh—"

"You went in my _phone_!?"

Stiles flinched again. "Yeah, uh, nice—nice music. Fall out boy's good. Awesome, actually. You got classy taste, man."

Derek's eyes darkened. "Why were you in my phone, Stiles."

"It, um—fell out of my pocket?"

"It fell out of your pocket."

"…Yeah."

"And _why _did it fall out of your pocket?"

"'Cause I was stretching and—"

"You were _stretching_."

"Yes. I was—stretching. Yeah. Givin' the muscles a good ol' stretch, y'know?"

Derek gives him one of the most flat looks he's ever seen. "You were stretching and my phone fell out of your pocket, so you just decided to look in it."

"Uhhh—yes?"

"Without my permission."

Stiles winced. "Uh, yeah, about that. I—"

"Don't." Stiles closed his mouth, eyeing Derek cautiously as the guy glares at him. "What did you find? Apart from the music." Stiles gulped and Derek scowled. "Stiles, what did you find."

"I—um, I found…"

"Stiles!" Derek snapped, jolting him. "What did you _see_!?"

"Ifoundthevideo!" he rushed out all in a single breath, closing his eyes and waiting for the wrath of an angry Derek that was sure to come soon enough and—

It never came.

He opened one eye slowly, glancing at Derek. His brown eyes were wide and he was worrying his bottom lip with his teeth and—_Oh. My. God_.

He was blushing.

_Derek Hale _was blushing.

"Oh my god. You—you're _embarrassed_," he chuckled, and Derek turned his head to the side.

"Just shut up, alright," he growled. Stiles smirked, snickering quietly. "Shut _up_."

"Hey, hey, no worries. No worries at _all_, dude." He held his hands up innocently, grinning. "I now know you like watching me sleep. Consider me flattered."

Derek just whined.

Stiles laughed.

* * *

The next day Stiles found their solution and they'd effectively switched bodies back, no harm done. Stiles was took by surprise though when as soon as they'd been returned to their own bodies, Derek backed him against the wall and kissed the fuck outta' him.

That day had been very eventful. He'd got to see _Derek _squirm and moan, touch and lick Derek's cock _with _the guy feeling every single thing, _and _experience what Derek looked like when he came—let's just say it was one of the most _hottest _things he'd ever seen.

* * *

A few weeks later Stiles decided _no more_. He was going to do it. Get rid of it forever.

It was a success.

He managed to hack Scott's _YouTube _account and remove the video. Suprisingly, it wasn't that hard to get into after all.

"Really, Scott. _R__eally_?"

(The password was _Allison_).

* * *

_**LOOK MUSE.**_

_** I DID IT. **_

_**I POSTED THE BLOODY THING.**_

_**NOW BE GONE!**_

_***clears throat***_

_** Reviews and favourites are very much loved. So if you like, why not give 'em a chance? :)**_

_**YES MUSE, I TOLD THEM.**_

_**GOSH. GET OFF MY BACK.**_

_***waves***_

_**So anyway, bye guys, gotta' go n-**_

_**OW. THAT WAS MY LAPTOP YOU A-HOLE. I'MMA UNMUSE YOU RIGHT NOW MISTER!**_

_***sounds of yelling, smashing and static***_


End file.
